by Ryan Sanghavi, Staff Writer, April 2021
For seven beautiful months, we had peace. We had open hallways and paths on which to run. We had Spikeball, the results of which dictated the social hierarchy of the school. Being in eighth grade, we knew our way around. Most of us are on our second year here. We were superior even to the freshmen, though they might not have known it. Suffice to say, the campus was ours. The campus belonged to the middle schoolers, and nobody else. For two to three days a week, this was our school and it played by our rules.
But recently, someone high up decided to steam-roll us – the little guys. The seniors were allowed back on campus. God knows why, seeing as they just sit outside on their screens for the whole day. They could do that at home, too. It is truly bizarre to think of their schedule. There is not one good reason why a whole class of students would decide to 1) drive all the way to campus 2) watch Zoom classes for six hours 3) ??? 4) go home. It boggles the mind. Maybe if they were forced to be here, but they want to be here. Do they gain power the more time they spend on campus, like Hela on Asgard? The seniors serve no purpose other than to impose a strict social order that oppresses the younger population. It is time that we retake what was formerly ours. Before that, however, we middle schoolers must acknowledge the issue at hand beyond a surface-level description.
First, as has been laid out previously, the seniors are lazy and useless. They are, in a word (technically two), glorified roadblocks. They stand in the way of our running paths, shooting a look of hatred as we scuttle past them. They aren’t the ones who have to dash halfway across campus between each period. The process that they have to follow when switching classes is pressing three buttons. They’ve taken over the beach, the library, and the arts center. The only place that we have left to ourselves is the middle school forum, a place where not a single person has ever willingly spent an extended period of time. (The school uses food to lure students into that deserted rotunda, and regardless, hardly anyone comes.) They are physically larger than us – that’s the only thing keeping us in line – preventing full-scale skirmishes over spikeball.
Secondly, even when the seniors try to be helpful, they cause more harm than good. Take middle school mentors as an example. What is a middle schooler mentor? They are, essentially, seniors who try to act like teachers, but only in PD? But instead of teaching, they need to ask the teacher what to do before they themselves do anything. That just sounds like a student but with extra steps. I can say confidently that not a single person has ever been genuinely helped by a middle school mentor. I don’t need Anya Cheng (Class I) in my PD class knowing about my changing body. Is the school trying to bring us closer with seniors? They’re all going to be gone by next year (hopefully…), so what’s the point then, anyway?
The worst part is, everyone’s taking the seniors’ side. We get kicked out of The Castle when they want to eat. We get kicked off the beach when they want to play spikeball (side note: nobody talks about how truly awful Spikeball is. People only play it because there’s nothing else to do. The student body’s relationship with Spikeball is a classic case of Stockholm Syndrome). We get brushed aside time and time again, and the school encourages it. The seniors aren’t supposed to be allowed inside – it’s the one check on their power – but they wander inside to empty classrooms whenever they feel like it! They pass teachers in the hall who don’t eject them back outside. The rules aren’t enforced! We live in anarchy!
In truth, we middle schoolers get the last laugh: next year, when seniors become washed-up college students trying to find their identity, we’ll still be here long after they’re gone. And this time, it’ll be our turn to rule the school. Watch out, sixies!